


sorry, brother

by FrozenPoison



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Explicit Language, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenPoison/pseuds/FrozenPoison
Summary: If Merle were alive.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [sorry, brother // прости, братишка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22450039) by [FrozenPoison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenPoison/pseuds/FrozenPoison). 



> Thank PezzieCoyote for making me believe in myself and everything ♡  
> This is the second attempt of English fic. let's go
> 
> \---------  
> POV Merle

He’d hardly gotten out of that shit hole where he had been vegetating for lack of other options for several years. Although, not that everything was bad except the fucking hippies surrounding him. Or rather, a pale imitation of them. Because they grew sorghum instead of weed. For Merle it would be easier to withstand their talk and his life in general with weed. But where can you get any dope now? There are no cops in the world anymore, who were the only ones who could put you in jail for drug possession and sale. But, ironically, there is no dope. 

Well here, when he and the leader of the group had ‘conflict of interest’, he had to pack up his stuff, brazenly grabbing some food off the squealing chicks, and slamming the door of the old shack, where they lived, completely wrenching off its hinges. These people were not like Manson’s gang even remotely, although Merle thought the leader would knife him at least for clutching his wife’s hind parts. She fucking shouldn’t have shaken her buns in front of his eyes and maybe been nicer. The hell knows how long he hadn’t a woman. Any man would lose his mind. How could he know that wasn’t flirting, but normal human politeness? Merle had thought that concept was dead as a fact.

He turned around and thought he would have just fucking burned them all. But he was lazy to go back. Let them be eaten by walkers. Yeah.

Two weeks in the fucking woods. Two weeks of shitting under a bush and hoping he doesn’t get a poison ivy under his hand. He’s exhausted – he’s barely slept, he was starving and broke his knife on the biter’s head. He thought he was about to reach the ocean. Then he’ll fall on the sand and imagine he’s at the resort with salt on his lips that was licked from the edge of the stack of tequila.

Now, luck was with him. Merle sees the high walls of some kind of settlement and the house roof behind them. The huge sown fields are stretching around and he wants to run over them and get a damn ear of corn, gnawing it with his teeth. He stands still at some distance, thinking about his next move. He sees the guards on the walls and thinks they won’t welcome a hungry stranger. After him seeing the cannibals, he doesn’t want to be somebody’s dinner. Suddenly he even misses fucking hippies, who at least fed and took care of him, for a second. He shouldn’t have done that with them. But there’s nothing to be done.

He doesn’t have time to think up anything because the gates open and he presses his back against the tree, peeking out from behind the trunk out of the corner of his eye. He notices two men and tries to estimate the degree of the danger while they come closer him. He doesn’t move, playing possum, until the chatting men pass by. He thinks he’s gone nuts because of roaming in the woods, but this hoarse voice, this relaxed gait, this crossbow on the man’s back… he unconsciously makes a step forward and says in confusion: “Brother?”.

The men turn around to his voice and he’s freezes. No, he’s not imagining things. This isn’t insane, although his voice sounds nervous, in disbelief and happy. With his eyes wide open Daryl looks at him as if Merle’s risen from the dead and rushes forward, clutching his arms of him. Daryl has changed – has become manly, and gained weight and muscles, and grown his hair. Merle didn’t think he’d being so happy to see the little bastard and he laughed so loud.

“I thought you–” Daryl mutters.

“Croaked in a ditch? Hell, no,” Merle grins and pulls away to better consider his little brother. “The years have not been kind to you. Look like you’ve been hit and dragged ‘bout ten miles by a truck.”

“And you’re like eaten and puked by dogs,” Daryl responds.

Only then Merle notices the companion of his brother, who looks at them silently and with surprise.

“This is… Pa… Jesus,” Daryl says with a small bit of embarrassment, scratching his nose, pointing at him.

Merle examines the short guy with the beard and the long brown hair for a few seconds before blurting out, “Oh, silly Christ boy! Where the fuck have you been when I begged for help? I already don’t need fucking nothing. Though I thought it’s all over, the world’s gone tits up. Dead have risen a long ago, how long can I wait for you? Merle wouldn’t earn the room in heaven, but tell me what to do. I’ll atone for my sins. We’ll make a deal,” he grins, smirking and winking.

Daryl looks at Merle like his brains have melted. Yes, they could for so many years.

“Never mind. I’m just kidding,” Merle taps the fellow on the shoulder with full force, almost knocking him down. “So are you living there?” he nods at the settlement hidden behind the high walls. It seems, he was not just lucky today, he’s won real jackpot.

“That’s Hilltop. Daryl and I were going on the hunt. Want to join us or get some rest?” his speech like a streamlet, flows so smoothly and politely, to make Merle be embarrassed because of what he was saying for a second. “We can show you everything. And in the evening, when we come back I… I’ll find a bed or a room for you.”

“I’d like to share a room with my brother. We have a lot to talk about.”

Merle notices Jesus and Daryl exchange glances. Daryl shrugs and bites his lip as if he gives his friend a choice.

“Well, it’s easier to find a bed than a room for two. Daryl lives with me in the trailer.”

“So are you two kinda BFFs?”

“Well, sort of,” the fellow kindly smiles and takes a few steps forward. “Come on. Let’s set you up here. You must be starving.”

“Like a pack of dogs.”

The gates open before them as Jesus waves his hand and commands to the guards – the guys armed with spears – like he is a damn leader. By the way, it will be good to meet and get along with their leader, whoever he is. He’s not worse than Governor for sure, at the first sight there is no place for an ultimate fighting in the community. Merle sighs and swears excitedly, describing what he’s seeing. The community prospers as if it is a starting point of the revival of civilization. Jesus hospitably shows Merle the place he can get rest until they returning and asks some man to bring a food to the wanderer.

Before entering the trailer Merle notices the solar panels on its roof – the community stuffed for Apocalypse. But there are no modern communications, as in a village. If they were here this would mean he’s gotten into paradise. But there would be were the half-naked beauties in paradise. Merle throws his half-empty backpack off his shoulder and left alone walks through the trailer, sticking his nose in each box. Not that he hopes to find something value, just wants to know what the resources are in this “Hilltop” and something about the fellow who has taken him in and takes care of everyone, poor or ugly, and strangers whom the fellow sees for the first time. And he’s ready to trust them immediately. Isn’t he an idiot? There's a shit-ton of books scattered around the room, which are obviously saved up for kindling a fire in case the power went out in the community.

Merle finds the lube in the nightstand and with raising his eyebrows rummaging around in search of dirty mags. Well, somebody sins in that place, what means he will fit perfectly. The polite knock at the door behind him; and Merle turns around himself, noticing the pretty dark-hair woman with the plate of food in her hand.

“Hope it’s delicious like you,” he blurts out, not able to bite his tongue.

The woman shifts from foot to foot on the threshold in confusion, reaching the plate to him, and Merle apologizes hurried, swearing he didn’t mean anything by that, and thanks for her kindness passionately.

“I’m Merle. Daryl’s bro, he got me here.”

It seems like his little brother’s name makes the woman stay for a while instead disappearing without introducing herself.

“Tara.”

“How long have you been here?’ 

“Long enough,” it looks like as if she wants to leave but hesitates out of politeness, “Well. I still have things to do. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask. Jesus will come back by night.”

Tara leaves and Merle looks after her, noticing she’s the whole package. He drops his eyes at the plate, examining appetizing vegetables and fruits, and licks his lips; hunger grumbles in his stomach. Merle sits on the steps of the trailer, putting the plate down on his laps, and starts eating, looking around with interest. Somebody walks with the basket of laundry, somebody leads the horse to the gates, and two men put boards together for some kind of building. Merle eats greedily and thinks of how to come and meet everyone if he’s planning to stay in the community; but he almost choked. Ugh, spear-chuckers are here too. Of course they are. He forgot to ask if people he knows are here, except Daryl. It might be good or not. Some of them have issue with him. Okay. All of them take issue with him.

His brother and Jesus come back by dinner when Merle started reading a book out of boredom, although he’d rather browse through a lingerie catalogue to, so to say, get total pleasure from this place. Grinning slyly Merle watches Daryl as he carries the deer on his shoulders and lowers him on the ground in the middle of the community. _He’s done with fluffy-tail rats_ , he thinks proudly, coming closer to ask if Daryl needs a helping hand with meat cutting, and raises his right metal prosthesis hand.

“Need to find a knife and I become a chef.”

“Nah,” Daryl brushes him off and rubs his nose with a dirty hand, leaving dark spots on his skin. Some men have already come to the deer to bring it to the kitchen.

“Take a shower first,” says Jesus to Daryl and he nods in agreement.

Merle frowns and with half-opened mouth watches as Daryl goes to the brick building. _What have you done to my brother?_ He wants to ask the fellow, but shakes his head – he’ll ask Daryl personally.

“Have you looked around?” Jesus asks good-naturedly, heading toward the trailer.

“Yeah. Impressed,” he says, following him.

Jesus lifts Daryl’s crossbow off his shoulder, which obviously he was carrying all the way while the deer was on the shoulder of the hunter, and puts it against the wall.

“Who’s the leader all of you, by the way?” Merle leans against the door frame, watching Jesus takes off his gloves and coat, hanging it on the hook.

“Well, formally I am,” the fellow says with a smile. Merle stands stunned. He wants to say something but his eyes lock on Jesus, trying to figure out why he was chosen as a leader. Low growth; doesn’t look threatening and powerful. How the fuck does he rule this place? With a lovely smile?

“Oh. Thanks. For taking me in,” Merle mutters. Because it’s necessary to thank people so they don’t want to throw you out.

“You’re welcome. I need to find a bed for you.”

“I’d still like to live with my brother,” he makes a new attempt to negotiate.

Jesus gives him a strange smile.

“Afraid it’s difficult. He lives with me; there are no free rooms for two so you two will have to live separate.”

“I got it,” Merle raises his hands, “yeah, kid needs more private space.”

There are only one bed and one couch in the trailer; there’s no room for Merle. Jesus leads him into the trailer in the other side of the community and introduces him to Eduardo. _Beaner. Great_ , Merle thinks. But the beaner with a spear, who keeps them all safe, therefore Merle has to keep taunting words locked in his mouth.

“Great upgrade,” his new neighbor notices, nodding at his hand.

Merle nods in return politely, unpacks his scanty stuff, and goes outside for waiting for Daryl to come back from a shower. He has had so many questions, starting with how Daryl even got here. He moves to the trailer and freezes, accidentally hearing a strange conversation.

“Should we tell him?” Jesus asks.

“No, he won’t understand,” Daryl answers.

“He will find out sooner or later.”

Daryl is quiet and Merle has no idea what they were talking about. But it definitely concerns him. He waits for a minute but the conversation doesn’t continue and doesn’t give him a clue about it, and only then he goes out and knocks against the half-opened door. Leaning against the door frame Merle smiles and looks at Daryl hurriedly putting the clean shirt on after a shower. Since when does his brother show his back to other people shamelessly? Or has he stopped paying attention to his scars after all years? Jesus excuses himself and Merle steps aside, letting him out of the trailer.

“Got settled?” Daryl says and throws his shirt into the laundry baskets.

“Yup. Fine. Except for a crowd of the freaks, but I сan handle it somehow, get used to it.”

Merle looks back and notices Jesus go to the brick house; nobody will interrupt a conversation between Daryl and him. He steps to the couch and sits on it, without having time to say anything when Daryl breaks the silence first.

“Where have you been these years?”

“Here and there,” Merle answeres, “lived with a parody of hippies. They didn’t have any weed.” Unspoken ‘and I thought I’d never see you again’ hangs in the air. “And how long have _you_ been here?”

“Long. Once Rick and I ran into Jesus and he showed us there are still good living people and other communities.” Daryl picks his nails awkwardly, glancing at his brother. “We were living in another place, in Alexandria, at the time.”

“Rick… he’s here?” Merle bucks up.

“No. He’s… dead,” Daryl frowns and turns away, starting to tinker with his crossbow, although it’s ok at first sight. Merle is silent for several long minutes, staring at the pile of the books on the floor; a part of him chuckled at fact that the officer of the law lasted less than the lawbreaker.

“How?”

“Saved hundreds of people. Blew up the bridge with the herd of walkers.”

The act of a hero. Well, how else could have Rick died? Merle shifts on the couch uncomfortably, trying to remember the names all of their mutual acquaintance.

“Where is the Chinese kid?”

Daryl lifts his head suddenly.

“Merle, I’d ask you… not to be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Normally you. I’ve vouched for you and don’t want any conflicts here.”

“I got it, little brother,” Merle raises his hands, “everything will be hunky-dory. But I need to know if there is somebody I know in here.”

Daryl bites his lower lip thoughtfully, and then shakes his head.

“Carol is with her husband in another community, Maggie used to rule this place but she’s been gone for a while. Promised to come back. Michonne’s in Alexandria.”

It means everyone else died a glorious, heroic death, just like Rick did. Merle nods, realizing that nothing is more permanent than temporary, and decides not to pull his brother’s nerves with questions. When and _if_ Maggie comes he will already be in good standing with the community leader and he won’t be kicked out. Jesus soon returns and they dine on venison. He sits in the room, telling Merle about the community, making him to wonder rapturously. After that they find a knife for Merle, which he can set into his prosthesis when he gets out of the walls. Pleased the man plods to his trailer and gets ready for bed by nightfall. Everything feels good but there is something missing to be really happy.

“Hey. Do you have some…?”

“What?” Eduardo asks.

“Coke. Snow. Pot.”

“No,” the guy answers with surprise.

“Too bad. Well, I had to ask.”

Next morning, when Merle comes out of the trailer he sees the woman planting flowers, and an idea pops into his head immediately. He comes into trailer and finds Daryl reading the book. Merle smirks and asks what he is reading.

“Kerouac. A road trip novel.”

Merle comes closer, pulling the book out of Daryl’s hands, and turns the pages in wonder.

“I thought there was a skin mag under the cover so no one catch you.”

Daryl snorts. Merle hands the book back, sinse that doesn’t interest him, pondering about yesterday’s question. _What has that Jesus done with my brother?_ And another one – what were they talking about and didn’t want to tell him. But it would be tactless to say he overheard. He’s about to ask if Daryl wants to join him and do something together like old times but Jesus comes into the trailer, holding the pan.

“Good morning. Will you have breakfast with us?” he asks, as friendly as ever, “it will be ready in twenty minutes”.

“With pleasure,” Merle says, “so I have time to do something.”

He turns around and goes out. The woman with the flowers named Martha helps and shows him where he can get empty pots. Merle doesn’t tire smiling as if he’s gotten a new glittering bike and praises efforts of the local citizens, Martha in particular. He takes a bundle with seeds out of his backpack and gets started, sitting on the steps of his trailer. While wandering through the woods he saw a beautiful Mary Jane plant and couldn’t help himself and took everything he could from her. You never know when you’ll need the seeds. Merle decides the sooner he does it, the sooner they will rise up.

After a few minutes of digging the ground he hears someone approach him and freezes, watching his actions. Merle sprinkles the seeds with earth and smoothes the surface carefully, looking for a place next to the trailer where to set the pots.

“Are you putting in flowers?” Daryl’s voice is heard.

“Yup.”

“Are you sure they are flowers?”

“When they grow up you’ll thank me for you not climbing the wall,” Merle suspiciously thinks Daryl doesn’t know how to blow off some steam, thinks he’s tense and picks up other people’s habits, such as reading books.

Over breakfast Merle continues to make sure that Jesus is kind of nonexistent embodiment of the ideal of human. But now Merle tries not to fuck with him so as not to piss away another safe place, especially next to his brother. Jesus asks about Merle’s skills and tells Merle can join a group going in search of scrap metal. Merle offers to change somebody of the guards on the walls because of his shooting skills.

“The schedule is set for this week, but we’ll find where you can be useful.”

Merle wants to be useful. He wants to save face with his little brother who gets food for the whole community. Merle couldn’t have figured out why the hell Jesus was hanging around with Daryl, but he wants to spend time with his brother like old times. Just the two of them against the world. Merle waters his plants, hoping they’ll grow up in the friendly atmosphere of the community as soon as possible. No, he doesn’t go wild yet but wants to get the reserve of sedatives. It’s only a matter of time before someone doesn’t like his way of talking. And he tries to be friendly, in other words – to avoid niggers and chinks.

Merle goes to help a group of men cut down trees for building the mill. Until dusk they come back tired but pleased. Merle winks at Tara, who comes over with a pad to ask about their progress. She smiles politely but pretends she doesn’t notice his gaze. Merle goes through the gates, thinking about asking her to spend time together; she’s kind of single lady and he didn’t notice anybody comes to her even for hugging. Merle washes his face and goes to looking for his brother, who definitely came up with dinner. He enjoys a thought about laying his bones with his belly full of food on the bed and getting enough sleep for the second time that the week.

Daryl is not around and Merle circles the perimeter of Hilltop, examining every corner. Passing by Daryl and Jesus’ trailer he decides his little brother might only be there. Merle comes over the door and lifts his hand for knocking but hears a sound that indicates that two people are rubbing horizontal surface with their bodies.

 _The little brat has succeeded here; I bet he’s_ _cuddling up with a hot girl. Finally,_ Merle thinks joyfully, deciding to not interfere. Living without his elder brother to look after him, Daryl stopped restraining himself and being shy. A low moan that definitely comes from Daryl is heard on the other side of the door. Merle would not want Daryl to be with Tara, but he noticed Daryl is very tight with her.

Merle steps back and immediately hears another voice doesn’t belonging woman. Almost a whisper. He can’t distinguish the words and sees the window and dim light pouring out of it, perhaps from a table lamp. Merle should have gone into his own trailer and stay out of other people’s relationships but he leans to the window, looking into the room through the gap between the curtains. He sees two kissing and naked figures on the bed. Daryl, burying his hand into the long brown hair of his girlfriend, pulls away and says something. The grin appears on Merle’s lips – yeah, his brother’s no slouch. But he has no time to leave, catching a strange movement. Why is Daryl turning his back on his chick and kneeling down? A second later Merle’s eyes wide open at seeing the picture, which he wants to burn out of his memory. That’s not a girl. That’s Jesus bending Daryl over and sticking his dick into him. His eyes are blurring, and Merle is disgusted to see the tensing muscles of Jesus’ back and butt when he takes his brother. Daryl’s long moan makes Merle come to his senses and shrinks back and away from the window.

His first impulse is to break into the trailer and to smash the motherfucker’s face. Beat him until his skull turns into the bloody mess and teeth are strewn on the floor. He jerks the handle of the door but recognizes the obvious thing with a terror – nobody would have left the door unlocked. He wants to scream until his voice blows and to hammer on the door, but Merle is left with the terrible thought – everyone in the community will know what happened. Absolutely everyone will know what was done to Daryl. Oh no, he can’t do this to his baby brother. He doesn’t deserve that disgrace. Merle recoils to the side, still looking at the door. Daryl’s voice is still ringing in his ears, how Daryl responds to every Jesus’ movement.

Merle turns around abruptly and heads away, quite blind, clenched his fist until it hurt and grit his teeth as not to snarl with indignation. He hits the stone fountain in the middle of the yard with full force and presses his hand to himself because of flashing pain, but even that can’t keep him from angry thoughts.

Once Merle knocked out one guy’s teeth and was sent to prison for sixteen months. And there he’s seen things. Specifically, how prisoners assert their dominance. They weren’t gays, or rather not all of them. Does Jesus state his leadership position this way, bending his little brother to his will? Merle couldn’t care less if Jesus was Britain’s Queen. He must take care of him. Because. No. One. Will. Dare. To Fuck. His. Brother.

But what can he do? Merle can’t be silent and pretend he knows nothing. Talk to Daryl and ask what the fuck it was? He’ll deny with fear to admit and will not turn against Jesus, his fucking _friend_. Or what did he call him? Fuckever. They can’t manage the situation peacefully, and Merle doesn’t want it. He’ll be smarter. He’ll be patient and make sure nobody will ever find Jesus’ body.


	2. Chapter 2

Merle has wanted to smoke desperately since morning. He barely slept last night; the disgusting picture of the night before was flicking behind his eyes. He examined his pots for a half of an hour, begging the plants grow up somewhat quicker. He tried to get distracted but a rage inside him hasn’t wanted to calm down, and he couldn’t do nothing.

Merle puts his head in his hands – the fingers of his left hand clutch, and the metal prosthesis of his right hand cools his temple. Until the last second, he had tried to deny what he saw; even before as the world has gone fuck up there was a wake-up call. Maybe is it Merle’s fault? One day Merle noticed Daryl staring at the skinny ass of the kid in a garage, and joked that Daryl must stop drooling at the kid and ask him out on a date – maybe he’d fix their bike for free. But that was just a burn. There was no need to worry about that, but an inexplicable anxiety rose up. Merle began to look closely and notice his brother’s weird behavior. Or he seemed to notice, because he tried to beat that shit out of Daryl the only way he knew how, until it was too late. He brought prostitutes for his brother, pushed him into the fights when their buddies would beat a faggot who had accidentally wandered in a bar.

If Daryl had gone to jail he would have been pressed to a wall the first night because of his wicked tongue and pretty face. Too perky for not being put in place.

Merle is sure Daryl wouldn’t have gotten on his knees for leader of Hilltop freely. God, what else is he doing to him? It’s too scary to imagine. Poor baby brother was stuck up to the tonsils in the shit and doesn’t know how to get out of it. But Merle will help him.

Merle diligently tries to think of what to do. If he fights him directly Jesus will be protected by a horde of his friends and kick Merle out. It means Merle needs to stay alone with him somewhere far away from the community. World is so dangerous nowadays, with biting things walking around, there isn’t anywhere to get help from. Jesus looks small and frail; Merle can deal with him barehanded.

Merle thinks how to lead Jesus away and make sure his brother won’t tag along. And after that he will return to Hilltop dirty, crying his eyes out and telling everyone he couldn’t keep the guy alive. Yes, the plan is simple and maybe a little stupid, because he will be suspected of the killing. But aren’t stupid versions the most truthful? Daryl will be grieving, smearing his snot on the walls and howling, but this is the way it should be. It will be best for him that way.

Merle has calmed while working through his plan, although he has to control his temper as he comes to Jesus’ trailer. Avoiding the guy would be too suspicious. Sitting on the step and sharpening the knife Daryl raises his head and invites his brother in for breakfast. During mealtime Merle barely talks, glancing from Daryl to Jesus chatting to each other about nonsense. And pictures of the future massacre bloom in his head vividly, making Merle grins weirdly.

“Is something wrong?” Jesus asks after Daryl takes the plates away for washing.

Merle twitches, recovering himself. “No... well, yes, it is. Didn’t wanna tell you in front of Daryl. You know when his birthday is?”

“We had never celebrated and I think he doesn’t want to,” Jesus answers with embarrassment.

“Bullshit. He just won’t tell,” Merle cuts out, “We were always celebrating. His favorite feast. By the way it’s the day after tomorrow by my count. Even though I’m wrong he’ll be happy anyway.”

“Is it? Well, we must gift him something,” Jesus smiles, biting his lip thoughtfully.

“Don’t bother. I know what he wants. I saw his kid-dream-bike near here. Easy walk to. But I can’t bring it here one-handed, as you see. Wanna surprise him? Let’s get the bike together.”

“Sounds great,” Jesus nodes, thinking for a bit, “how about doing it tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Hope makes Merle jubilant.

“Let’s keep it a secret, ok? Don’t want the kid to guess before its time. So we need to sneak off.”

Jesus nodes and says he’ll think how to make it.

*****

Fortunately, in the morning Daryl goes hunting and checking his traps; Jesus and Merle leave the community unnoticed.

“You sure we won’t run into him?” Merle asks anxiously. Because otherwise he’ll fuck up.

“Absolutely,” Jesus nods, “I know where Daryl’s hunting. Show me where you saw the bike.”

Merle swears mutely as he studies the map held out him. He asks for the location of Hilltop supposedly for a sense of direction, and grunts thoughtfully, and moves his finger along the lines of the roads senselessly.

“Here,” he points on the map.

Jesus frowns and shakes his head.

“Don’t remember any bikes here. Or I’ve forgotten. Ok, I’m going to trust you,” he smiles and steps forward.

“Trust strangers…. Offer a bed in the community and food… why?” Merle asks. As long as the guy is alive maybe it’s worth asking a few questions for understanding the motivations of other people. For the future. When the prick can’t fuck with them anymore.

“I trust Daryl,” Jesus says, “and you are his brother. Blood relations are a great value.”

Merle nods silently as he watches Jesus out of the corner of his eye. While looking at him everyone can doubt what a rotten soul is hidden behind his good looks. Merle would never have guessed what Jesus makes his brother do. He thinks he must right a wrong and save not only his brother but the whole community from the fucking faggot in the lead. Merle fidgets as he caught the eye of the guy as if he was reading his thoughts.

“What?”

“I asked if you were riding bikes with Daryl.”

Only now Merle guesses Jesus was babbling the whole walk while he was boiling in his thoughts about revenge.

“Couple of times. We had an old rattletrap but it fell to pieces. The little bastard loved it,” he answers and wonders if they have gone far enough from the settlement so a scream won’t reach it. Merle just has to swing and stab his knife into the back of the pseudo-messenger of God–

“Daryl has taught me to ride the bike,” Jesus continues with a smile and looks at Merle so sweetly too intently by his sky-blue eyes as he remembers about it.

Fuck. Merle can’t do it. Jesus should be put in a sack like a kitten so he can’t see those eyes, and drowned. But Merle has no sack so he needs to look for an opportunity. Jesus tries to chat about something, tells how Daryl helps his community, in short – pours enthusiastic shit into his ears. Under other circumstances Merle would have been happy for his brother, but now he wants to throw up.

Merle clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white and he remembers the lines from the Bible: _“Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves…. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them.”_ He must not misfire; he must do what he needs to do.

They reach the town pointed on the map by Merle and they thread their way through the buildings carefully. Jesus finally shuts up his enthusiastic chirping so as not to get the attention by walkers. He lets Merle lead the way and holds one of his fighting knives. Merle stops before the corner of the building as he looks over. His eyes slide up – he’d like to go up and throw the guy off the roof. This is the easiest way; he won’t even have to fight. But he notices the small group of the walkers and one of them notices him, turning around and starting to hobble to Merle. A new plan appears in his mind. Merle raises his hand, with gesture asking Jesus take his time, and waits until the walker approaches within five feet.

“Clear,” he jerks his head. Jesus takes two steps forward and Merle, deciding not to rely on luck, grabs his shoulders and pushes him into the rotten paws of the walker. He whistles, calling the rest of the biters, to increases his odds of success. Unfortunately, Jesus manages to dodge, with one movement cutting the tendons of the walker’s legs, and it falls down.

“Son of a bitch,” amazed at his dexterity Merle moves forward, not letting him stab the skull. He has to take a risk counting on the confusion of his enemy. Jesus doesn’t want to die so easily. Merle uses his build as he falls against him and hits on his calf by the toe of his boots. Jesus groans, falling to his knees.

The rest of the walkers have come very close and Merle jumps to his feet and rushes to escape over the corner of the building. He runs without turning around as tries to get as far away as possible. Eventually he presses his back against the wall and catches his breath. He can’t remember if he heard a cry but he needs to know if his plan has worked. Merle goes round by buildings to avoid the meet with walkers and from a distance looks at the point where he threw Jesus. There are a few bodies on the ground and at this distance Merle can’t recognize who it is. Fuck.

“What the hell?”

Merle flinches at a voice coming from behind him and turns around. Jesus is standing one foot away from him looking safe and sound, frowning and clenching his fists. Merle notices too late that his fighting knives are in its sheath. How’d he fucking gotten through with such a big crowd?

“You tried to kill me,” Jesus says forcefully, “why?”

“Like you don’t know,” Merle snaps, bewildered.

“Need reasons for wanting to kill,” Jesus doesn’t take his eyes off him, demanding an answer. “We don’t really know each other. I did you nothing bad.”

Merle grits his teeth; he doesn’t want to say it out loud but if the bastard is dumb enough to understand he will have to. “You fucked my brother.”

Jesus flinches as he loses his courage and Merle goes on the attack, sensing his weakness.

“And how did you manage to bend him over?” he growls as he steps forward threateningly.

“Ain’t....” Jesus starts saying, confused and automatically stepping back.

Rage flares up instantly and Merle swings with his left hand; but Jesus ducks, avoiding the hit. It looks like as if he’s not even trying to defend himself or grab his knives. Idiot.

“If you like sucking dicks, take mine.”

Merle rushes forward, relishing the thought that it’s good Jesus hasn’t been eaten by walkers. It will be a great pleasure to deal with the bastard yourself. Jesus recoils and somebody grabs Merle by his shoulders and jerks his back. He hits with his back and the back of his head against the wall so hard that sparks fly out of his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Daryl’s voice growls.

His vision focuses gradually and he sees his brother pinning him against the wall and almost pressing his forehead against his forehead. How he did fucking find them? Fucking pathfinder. He could not distinguish the trail of a dog from the trail of a deer before.

“No. What the fuck are _you_ doing?” Merle kicks forward, getting out of his brother’s grip. He breathes heavily, looking around. Jesus has stiffened in the distance, watching the brother’s showdown, saying nothing. Merle screws up his eyes as he goes on a rampage. His plan is going south, he has nothing to lose. “The faggot will pay for what he’s done to you. Step aside and let big bro deal with him.”

He moves forward but Daryl’s standing in his way predictably.

“Hell, no. Beat me if you wanna scratch your fists. What the fuck, Merle?!” he barks, “He did nothing to you.”

“You like sucking off every leader of your group?” Merle hadn’t wanted to be so rude to his brother but he has to. They both want answers – let them choke on them. “Rick first. Now you’re _his_ bitch?” 

But confusion doesn’t flicker on Daryl’s face; he doesn’t take his eyes off his brother who was heavy breathing.

“Come on,” Merle smiles bitterly, “if you want let’s find a chick for you, put on a beard on her. Everyone has their own fetishes.”

“No,” Daryl croaks. He pants and keeps quiet. Merle sees something strange flickers on his face and then Daryl bits his lower lip. When they were little and the younger brother was screwing up, and wanted to confess to his elder brother, he would bite his lip, but look away, lower his head in guilt. Right now Daryl doesn’t look as if he regrets anything. But he is clearly afraid to admit something, so as not to provoke the anger of his brother. “I love him.”

Merle thinks he hit his head too hard and therefore he has damaged his ears. He frowns, glancing to Jesus who doesn’t look surprised by Daryl’s words.

“Love?”

No no no. This is bullshit. Daryl is just trying to confuse Merle and make him forget about murder. He glances to his little brother and catches his pleading look making him shiver. Merle freezes in utter bewilderment; he has to do anything. Anger is changed into something different and he feels himself trembling, as he thinks, with fury. But his lungs are getting cold.

“He fucked your brains out. That ain’t love, that is…is…” Merle stutters, trying to remember the term, “Stockholm syndrome! You feel obligated, you don’t have to…”

But, it doesn’t matter that he loves Merle, Daryl won’t let him kill Jesus.

“Merle, leave him alone. Or… you ain’t my brother anymore.”

“What?” it looks like as if he misheard again. And Merle explodes, “you prefer a dick from the Hill to me? He’s not your kin, not your blood.”

“Merle–“

Merle pushes Daryl aside. He’s had enough. He’s fed up with this shit. All this is some kind of nonsense that needs to stop. Daryl blocks his way again, grabbing his shirt, and Merle has no choice but punch him in the face. This is may be the only way to bring his brother round. There is a crackle of fabric but Daryl doesn’t let Merle down.

“Please, stop.”

But he doesn’t hear it. Without knowing his strength he hits Daryl in the face and breaks his nose. Awareness about what happened comes a second later after several scarlet drops promptly fly to the pavement.

“I’m sorry, brother. Ain’t–” Merle whispers in fear, pressing his hand against his mouth.

“Run!” Jesus shouts suddenly, rushing off away.

Merle looks up from his brother, who has smeared blood on his chin, and turns around. He sees the crowd of the walkers coming to them, drawn by their shouts.

Daryl doesn’t slow down, spitting to the side, and running forward. He has to stop abruptly to avoid smacking into the walkers that appeared in front of him as if from nowhere, and he tries to get the knife out. Merle pushes him aside, stabbing the walker’s skull, and jumps back. There are too many of the walkers to fight against them. Company rushes on past the red brick building, moving trash cans behind them to block the way of walkers.

“Up, hurry!” Jesus shouts, swinging his knives and putting down the walkers hanging around the fire ladder.

Merle looks up at the five-story building and nods at his brother. Then he clasps his hands.

“Come on.”

Daryl hesitates just a bit before stepping on the clasping hands, and Merle quickly throws his brother up, helping him to hang on the crossbar. One ass has been saved. Merle turns back, throwing the dead man aside, and then jumps up in a wretched attempt to get to the ladder. He doesn’t even think about helping Jesus climb. He would like to leave him here – it’s the luckiest moment, but the trouble is, Merle is just as trapped.

Or worse. Somebody clings to his leg, crawling under cans, and Merle falls down, hitting his head again. He definitely has gotten another bump. Jesus runs up, ending the dead who was pulling Merle, and stretches his hand to him. Merle brushes off a friendly gesture, turning over on his side, and stands up without assistance. It looks like as if the amount of walkers has not decreased. What a damnable bad luck! Were they both going to die for all their sins? Merle hasn’t sinned enough yet! He has so many years ahead of him, his firs haven’t sprung up yet… he can’t leave his babies without their daddy; who will take care of them? Because, obviously, not his little brother.

“We need another way out,” Jesus shouts from somewhere behind him while Merle kicks the walker aside. He’s dizzy, his lungs are burning, and it’s a big question – how he’s still standing.

He turns at the call and sees Jesus deftly climbing over the fence. Merle hurries after him and tries to jump as high as possible, clinging to the metal grid with one hand. With howling he pulls himself up but his feet slip on it. The walker clutches his ankle and grabs the sole of his boot by his rotten teeth as Merle unsuccessfully tries to push him away.

“Give me your hand.”

Sitting on the fence Jesus reaches out to him but Merle ignores it, trying to cope on his own.

“Give me your hand,” he insists.

“No,” Merle snaps and barely falls down because of his sudden movement.

“Give me your hand _now_. I don’t want you to die.”

Then, without getting an answer, Jesus grabs him by his shoulders, helping him up and almost falling off the fence himself.

“Fuck.”

He has to throw one of his knives into the walker. And from the way Merle feels his foot is free, it was a good throw. They fall over the fence, landing on the pavement ungracefully. Jesus grabs him by the shoulders again, forcing him to get up and pulling him somewhere to the side at the same time. They trudge around the building until they find shelter in the empty shop where they can catch their breath.

Merle sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall. This day didn’t go according to his plan, as if providence had decided to get revenge on him because of all his bad thoughts. But he’s wanted to help! He’s wanted… just wanted…

“I know you want to protect him,” Jesus says as if he’s reading his mind. He’s standing next to him looking at him with his sad puppy eyes.

Merle grits his teeth to keep from swearing. The last thing he wanted to hear is excuses and moralizing; it would be better if the guy tries to beat him for the murder attempt. It would be way less offensive. It wouldn’t be so disgusting to realize that even though Merle hated him, Jesus wasn’t trying to blame him or getting angry. And he’s not trying to get back at him.

“I’m not his kin. But I’ve taken care of him for years,” he continues, “and I’m ready to lay down my life for making him happy.”

Merle raises his eyes and quiet, studying Jesus’ face for a long time. It looks like as if this guy is incapable of real violence and meant Daryl no harm.

“I love him. Truly.”

He’s helping him survive, he’s changed him, and he’s done what Merle couldn’t – he’s made him strong. Daryl hasn’t listened to other people’s opinions, he knows exactly what he wants, and he will punch anyone who tries to do something he cares about. Jesus saved Merle more than once today, even though he didn’t have to. He’s ready to risk his life for Daryl’s well being and happiness. Even if Merle might try to kill him again.

He wants to jump to his feet, and howl, and scratch his fingers against the walls because he refuses to admit it. Does that happen? That a man loves a man and not because beggars can’t be choosers. Maybe Jesus and Daryl have spent too much time together in woods, watching squirrels fucking, and then… He can’t figure out why Ennis and Jack had a spark, he watched the cowboy movie and didn’t even notice it. Obviously, it was the influence of the fucking sheep. And after he nearly choked on the popcorn when he realized what movie he was seeing. He was grinning and rolling his eyes the whole film session – what the shit-ton was shot, - but he didn’t leave, he was sorry for the money spent. The moment, when Ennis received a postcard he had sent to Jack, stamped “Deceased”, made Merle weep and wish he had left the cinema after all.

“Why do I believe you,” Merle whispers, closing his eyes and running his hand over his face.

“Because I’m telling the truth,” Jesus reaches out him, asking him to get up, “Let’s go. We need to find Daryl.”

And this time Merle grabs his hand.

Breathless the younger brother finds them out after a few minutes later and hugs Jesus tightly as if he didn’t hope to see him alive after he was left alone with Merle. Still holding Jesus in his arms, Daryl glares at his brother standing beside. He tries to see the reason of changing Merle’s mood and figure out if the danger has passed.

“Sorry, brother,” Merle says muffled, biting his lips and not knowing what to say.

Daryl lets go of Jesus and walks over to Merle, grabbing his shoulder and hugging him.

“Don’t you dare do it again. Or I’ll kick your ass,” he grins.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt your boyfriend again,” Merle breathes out, “if you goddamn find me a bottle of tequila today. I’m refusing to take facts of your private life while I’m sober,” he laughs bitterly while squeezing his eyes closed, “actually, you’d better not tell me. I’m not ready for that yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a couple of slang phrases coming from my own language. hope you like them.


End file.
